


Monster Squad

by queen_insane



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hannibal Season 3, M/M, No One Needs To Help Will Graham, Spoopy Halloween Fic, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-01-19 07:12:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12405573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_insane/pseuds/queen_insane
Summary: In which the Great Red Dragon rises from his imprisonment, and Jack puts together a crack team to defeat him. Or, the fic in which everyone is a supernatural creature but Jack.





	1. Whispers on the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is heavily inspired by [this](http://amatesura.tumblr.com/post/166500773651) gif set by tumblr user [amatesura](http://amatesura.tumblr.com/). Thank you so much for letting me use your gif set for inspiration. 
> 
> This story shouldn't be more than 3 to 5 parts long.

**\- Alana -  
**

The cold wind howled out here, on the balcony of the mansion she shared with her wife. As it whipped past her ears it whispered secrets of the dark, “the Great Red Dragon” has awakened it said to her. She let out a humorless chuckle. It had been eons since the Dragon had been defeated by her kind, but Alana knew the warnings. She had built this mansion to stand against his fury after all. Filled with fae magic it was particularly impenetrable. Spells passed down from her ancestors and seared into her blood. She touched highest guardrail in front of her and breathed in. The rail extended into the depths of the earth and from there Alana allowed herself the knowledge that only something as old and ancient as rich unearthed soil could provide.

It told her much the same and she sighed, “The news is not good is it?” Margot asked as she came up behind Alana to wrap her arms around her wife.

Leaning back into Margot’s comforting embrace she leaned her head back to allow Margot access to her neck - where her wife would kiss, but not bite, “All of nature whispers the same thing.” Alana said, “He has returned.”

“Have you asked the shallow pools?” Margot inquired, her cool arms coming up to rest on Alana’a naked stomach where they traced old blood magic runes.

“I don’t need to ask the shallow pools when the earth and the air are in such agreement.” Alana answered, “You know how rare that is.”

“You need to tell Jack.” Margot told her.

Alana knew this but she didn’t want to deal with Jack. He was her friend but it had been a long time since she had dealt with him, and his human aura took a while to get used to. He was a good man who didn’t judge based on race, but the two of them would never fully see eye to eye. Not after his last crusade had strained one of her longest friendships, “I don’t like the city.” She commented as if that summed up all of her issues.

“I do.” Margot said, her eyes gleaming golden in the darkness.

Alana laughed, because Margot did love cities. She loved how she could hear so many heart beats, she loved watching the people walk around and trying to figure out their blood types by the flush on their face. Wherever there was life - Margot went. But she never partook, not when she had one of the rarest blood types on tap daily. There was no need, and so she avoided Jack’s desire to hunt her down. Alana turned to look at her lover and untangled herself from her, “Come, let’s get you fed.”

A shadow passed over Margot’s face, and then she grinned - fangs fully elongated. Naked, she followed Alana back into their sprawling bedroom.

**\- Abigail -  
**

The phone rang. Floating over to it she glared at offending thing. If she had known that dying would have left her this way she would have never suggested it to Hannibal. She had been hoping for something better, like a wight. But luck had not been on her side and so here she was, only a year or so post materialization. It was still preferable to what she had been before - some sort of odd science experiment creation of her father. Sometimes when she concentrated she could touch things, but it was too much work honestly. The phone rang again and she watched as Will slowly and groggily woke up. Her father looked cute like this she thought. He blinked a few times at the phone and then blinked once at her, “Should I answer it?”

She shrugged. If it was Jack she hoped he ignored it and told him to go hang himself. It was his fault that her other father was currently locked up in jail. But there was nothing that she or her dad could do it about it. She hadn’t even been a ghost when everything had unraveled between them. Instead she’d been stuck in some in-between plain arguing with that land’s god to return her. Abigail did like to think that if she had been around, things would have turned out differently. But that was then and this was now, an attempted knife to the gut and and a bone saw to the head later. By now the phone had gone silent, “I suppose it doesn’t matter.” She told him.

The phone started to ring again and Abigail turned around in the air in frustration. If the person was calling multiple times it was Jack for sure, “I wonder what he wants.” Her dad sighed.

“Does it really matter? Tell him to fuck off.” She continued rolling around like a log, in the air above the bed.

“Language.” He scolded her.

They both let the phone ring until end again. A few more minutes of silence passed until it began ringing a third time. As it did Will let out another sigh and picked up, “Did the two times I let it go to voice message tell you enough?” He snapped, then paused, “Alana.”

That came as a bit of surprise. After her father had been captured and put away, Alana had slunk back into the hidden places as fae were wont to do and she knew that her dad hadn’t heard from her since, “What does she want?” Abigail asked.

Will held up a hand attempting to quiet her and Abigail blew out a puff of air that turned into a cold mist as ghost breath did when one wasn’t possessing a body. Her dad finished up the conversation and then put the phone down, his face heavy with something that Abigail didn’t recognize, “Do you know of The Great Red Dragon?” He asked and she shook her head no, “Alright. Go put on your body. I’ll tell you about him on the way to the city.”

“What about Little Will?” Abigail asked.

Little Will was a small pixie boy that Abigail had adopted a year ago. She had made him a small house, and feed him nectar daily. She almost loved him as if he was her own son, “Put something out for him to eat. He’ll be fine.”

She smiled and phased through the door in front of her, dancing down to her room and to the body that lay on the bed. It was a corpse that Will had rescued from the morgue when Abigail had returned to the material plane. A spell that her dad had paid heavily for kept it from decaying, allowing Abigail the joys of pretending to be mortal whenever her father went out and she wanted to come with. The less people who knew she was alive the better - the two of them had decided. Settling into the body, which she and Will had named Molly - she blinked up at the ceiling a few times and then climbed out of bed.

**\- Frederick -  
**

Sometimes he wished that Tinder was easier. He had gone more than two months without so much as a ping. And while there were other ways to get food, Frederick was getting hungry. People were getting to hard to approach at bars. And other supernatural creatures? Forget it. Ever since Alana had written that scathing piece about him in their city-wide supernatural newspaper he had been out of luck on that front too. He knew the fae had it out for him ever since he had taken the job at The Institute that was supposed to be hers. Secretly he hoped she fell on an iron pike and was poisoned to death, and bleed out as she gasped for the last bit of life that was left to her.

As he contemplated Alana’s messy death the door opened and he looked up as Will and some woman he didn’t recognize walked in, “Look what the dog dragged in.” He commented.

“Isn’t it look what the cat dragged in?” The woman asked.

Frederick clenched his teeth, “It is.” Will agreed, “Frederick this is Molly, my wife.”

“You brought your wife to this?” He sneered.

“If The Great Red Dragon is back I thought she deserved to know as much as I did.” He took off his coat and placed it haphazardly over Frederick’s chair, which he knew Frederick hated.

“Who are we waiting for?” Molly asked.

The door opened and three people walked in one after the other. Alana who entered first smiled at him icily, and then held the door open for her wife who came in after her. Margot quickly hurried over to Frederick’s curtains, and pulled them down to shade the room. While sunlight did not kill vampires, being in it for too long often caused them great pain. What too long was, wasn’t known to him - but he thought surely it could only be a few hours. As Margot took off her large wide brimmed hat, and placed it on his coat rack like a civilized person - Jack entered the room and closed the door behind them, “I’m glad that everyone is here.” Jack said taking off his coat and hanging it next to Margot’s hat.

“You’re sure it’s The Great Red Dragon?” Will asked again.

Alana took a seat on one of Frederick’s couches and crossed her legs as sensually as possible - the bitch, “I’m sure. I checked the pools this morning and they agreed with the wind, and the earth. I wouldn’t have called you on a hunch.”

“My wife doesn’t get hunches.” Margot told him.

“I’m not doubting you.” Will said, “I just didn’t want it to be true.”

“None of us did.” Jack barked, “But he’s coming. And we need to be prepared as possible. The number of fae he killed last time was - immeasurable.”

“Then you know what has to be done.” Will said seriously.

“We run?” Frederick suggested, earning him a growl from Will, “Just a suggestion.”

“No.” Jack said, already knowing where Will was going with his proposition.

“He’s the only one who can help us.” Will told him.

“I said no.” But his words didn’t have the force behind them that they usually did.

“Who is?” Molly asked.

“Hannibal.” Alana told Molly and sighed, “Will, you had better be sure about this. The last time you two meet our house turned into a battle ground.”

“I’m sure.” Will said.

This was not how Frederick had been hoping to spend his day. Standing up he stretched his body lithely in an attempt to show it off, and then said, “I’ll go get the key card.” As put upon as he could muster.

**\- Will -  
**

He had asked Abigail to stay behind. While he didn’t want to put too much thought into it, he knew it was because his blood was still in a rage over what Hannibal had done to him back in Florence. He was also still upset about Abigail, despite her insistence that it had been her idea. She had wanted to die and see if she turned into anything spectacular, she had told him time and time again. However it hadn’t changed how Hannibal had used her death against him as a weapon to hurt and wound. The elevator finished its descent and he walked forward and into the large room in front of him. Here, a large pane of glass was all that separated the two of them. A surface that Will felt would reflect both the truth of them, and the lies. Upstairs he had thought it would hurt - to see the man who had caused him so much pain, but instead all he felt was relief at seeing the monster in which he had fallen in love. Hannibal turned to look at him, and smiled, “That's the same atrocious aftershave you wore in court.”

“People don’t like the smell of the dog.” Will said, “They don’t like the teeth.”

Hannibal’s grin widened, “Having teeth is not a weakness dear Will. You should show them more often.”

“We are not the only thing with teeth.” He told Hannibal.

“Have some grown in my absence?” Hannibal asked.

“Risen.” Will answered, “Great, and sharp, and red. I want you to help me, Dr. Lecter.”

“Yes, I thought so. Are we no longer on a first-name basis?”

Will hadn’t even noticed his slip. Perhaps the anger he had thought gone at the feeling of relief hadn’t been as changed as he thought. Instead buried under the initial emotion, like a flower waiting to blossom again, “I'm more comfortable the less personal we are.” He admitted.

“Your hands are rough. I smell dogs and pine and flower sap beneath that shaving lotion. It's something a pixie would select, isn't it? Have you replaced children with pixies?”

“I'm here about summonings and returnings. You've felt it in the air I’m sure.” He refused to let Hannibal goad him when he had been talking to Abigail just a few moments before.

“The air down here is stale and does not always tell the truth. Not like the blood does. You want to know who he will go after first.”

“One monster to another. I thought you might know.” Will told him.

“You just came here to look at me. Came to get the old scent again.” Hannibal mocked him, “But your scent is the same as mine.”

Of course Will was a monster, he had the bite mark to back it up. But he had done his best to lock it all away. Had done a good enough job until Hannibal. He wouldn’t be dragged back into this, not when he had something so precious to protect, “I expected more of you, doctor. That routine is old hat.”

“Whereas you are a new man. Are you a good pixie keeper, Will?” He wasn’t a perfect father, but he thought he did the best one could do when their daughter was a ghost, “I will see what deeper blood magic has to say.” Hannibal conceded, “Tell Alana to swallow her fae pride and bring some to me.”

Every one of Hannibal’s words made Will just that much convinced that he didn’t deserve to know about Abigail. Not yet at least, “Thank you.” Will did end up saying.

“Family values may have declined over the last century, but we still help our families when we can.” Hannibal told him, “Someday we may be family again. No more pixies. They will be but bone-dust under our teeth.”

Deep down the Will who knew what pack meant, and knew how good pack could be - longed for the truth in Hannibal’s words. However that was for a someday that seemed clouded in the distance between them. Hazy in how it would manifest itself in the future. To get there Will understood that he would have to find a place to put his anger, a room where it could belong until it was lost to annals of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that incubus is the least likely choice for Frederick but it was funny, so I did it.


	2. What Lies Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble begins to brew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is heavily inspired by [this](http://amatesura.tumblr.com/post/166500773651) gif set by tumblr user [amatesura](http://amatesura.tumblr.com/). Thank you so much for letting me use your gif set for inspiration. 
> 
> I said that this would be between 3 to 5 parts, but I think I'm looking at a clean 5 to 6.

**\- Jack -  
**

Two fae families died in the span of a week before Alana arrived at his door, holding a folder that he prayed held some sort of answer. After a long debate at the start of the week - both Alana and Will  managed to convinced him to give Lecter the blood that he needed to complete his ritual. Jack desperately hoped that it had been worth it. He wasn’t fond of giving the man any sort of blood, not when Hannibal was so well versed in blood magic. But Alana had promised him that she would stay with Hannibal each time he cast and that she would make sure his room was clear of symbols after each spell had been completed.

As she came in the two of them stared at each other for a moment, not saying a word. Alana cocked her head and he realized that she expected him to speak first. The last time they had seen each other had been in the presence of others but now, alone - she would demand the respect most fae did from humans. Fae, especially those who had been alive for over one-hundred years - were prickly like that. He cleared his throat, “You can take a seat.”

Alana eyed the seat he offered her and shook her head, “I think I would prefer to stand.”

He shrugged, “What do you have for me?” He gestured at the file she was holding.

“Not much unfortunately.” She placed the file on his desk, “Hannibal thinks the Dragon is masking his location with impenetrable fire magic.”

Jack felt his frustration grow. The community of supernatural beings pissed him off sometimes. They had all these gifts that they refused to share. Some like Will even got two. It was why he had convinced the higher ups to start The Institute. To give him a chance to work with the community they knew so little about in order to capture or kill monsters that didn’t give a shit about humanity, “So then what’s this?” He tapped the file with finger.

“After Hannibal realized he wasn’t making much headway, he changed tactics. That’s a list of people he contacted, who will call us in case they hear something.”

He picked up the file and scanned through it. Most of the names he didn’t recognize, “Are these people clean?”

Alana wrinkled her nose at that, “Some of our kind will never be fully clean. Things were different hundreds of years ago.”

He leveled a stare at her, “I’m not asking for a much Alana.” He paused, “I know your wife still has unsavory contacts - have her look into it. If the person isn’t clean I don’t want to work with them. I’m not creating another situation like Will.”

At that Alana laughed, “So then why are you working with him again? When the danger is so high.”

In truth Jack didn’t want to work with Will Graham again, but Will had been his friend. And if they wanted to be honest about the situation, “There are only a few creatures that are strong enough to go toe to toe with dragons, as much as it pains me to admit it. And we have one of them locked up right here. We need Will, because he’s the only one Hannibal will talk to.”

“And when it all goes sideways?” Alana refused to back down.

He knew what she wanted to hear, “I’ll take responsibility.”

“Good.” She smiled, “Because the supernatural community takes enough heat from the government. You won’t pin this on us."

What Jack didn’t say, and perhaps what Alana already knew - was that it wouldn’t matter if he took the blame - Alana and her family would have to move. He wouldn’t be able to protect them. Margot had money so eventually they would most likely be able to buy their way back into safety - but he still worried for her. He worried for all of them, “Anything else?” He asked.

“One last thing. Hannibal believes that the Dragon isn’t at full power yet - that one of the reasons he is killing fae is because he is using their energy to empower himself.”

Jack could see how saying such a thing pained Alana. He wondered if any of the fae had been her friends. And decided not to ask. It didn’t matter anyway, not in the long run. Defeating the Dragon was what was important, “Thank you.” He told her bringing an end to the conversation.

**\- Reba -  
**

Everyday Reba woke up she stared into the darkness and missed the way the light would permeate everywhere. She missed seeing the bright and beautiful glow of humanity as she walked among them. The visions she didn’t miss, but she would take them back just for the ability to know the radiant beauty of her father’s creatures. But that time had passed, and her time has passed and she could not take back past mistakes. Could not turn the hand of time back. Michael had the ability she knew - but he would dare not go against the will of their father. Not for her, not for anyone.

She swung her legs over the bed and went through the motions of daily life: brushing her teeth, washing her hair, dressing, going to work. It was all the same. To anyone who looked she was human, she was the same. But it was impossible to forget what you once had seen. She longed for it fiercely, like something great and beautiful. Now she stood at the bus stop and let the rain touch her face. She didn’t mind the rain. Rain was always beautiful. She smiled, “What are you smiling at?” A voice to her left asked her.

“The way the rain feels when it hits my skin. It’s cleansing.” She answered.

“I hate rain.” He said.

She chuckled, “The rain doesn’t hate you.”

But maybe it did. There was something about this man - she wasn’t sure what exactly, that felt like fire. She may have been blind, but some senses still remained. Even if small, “There are things more beautiful than rain.” The faceless man said.

She blinked and a drop of rain dripped into her eye. She didn’t reach up to rub it off. It stung, but the act of removing it felt like a useless gesture, “And what are those?” She questioned him.

“Your smile.”

He was flirting with her Reba realized. No one had flirted with her in a long time. Sometimes it was because of the color of her skin. But usually it was because they realized she couldn’t see them, couldn’t see their love reflected back to them in her eyes. It was vanity. She stood up as she heard the sound of her bus pulling up to her stop, “Will I see you again?” She asked.

“If you tell me where you find you.” He answered.

“Here tomorrow then. Same time."

She walked forward and reached out to make sure that she entered the bus door correctly. As she did, she swore she heard the flutter of wings. The sound reminded her of home.

**\- Freddie -  
**

Her journal floated next to her as she walked through the wilderness. As she walked she spoke aloud and the self writing pen wrote down her thoughts. She hoped the tip she had received from reading the tea leaves of her morning tea paid off. They had a tendency to be fifty-fifty when it came to accuracy. The brush under her feet crunched, and finally she pushed through the bramble to come upon a wooden house. It a small thing but these fae were less ostentatious than Alana Bloom. Freddie honestly thought that Alana deserved to be brought down to earth a little bit. Having royal fae blood was a gift but the way she flaunted it - shameful. And then her wife was even worse - wealth on wealth wasn’t a good match made. Although Freddie was sure that they got off on the ego stroking they gave each other.

She took another pen out of her pocket and gave it a swish, transforming one of the stumps in the area into a large wooden chair and sat down. She didn’t think she would have to wait long, the tea leaves had also promised a short encounter but one never knew. Thankfully the tea leaves were correct and a moment later the door to the wooden home opened and Will Graham stepped outside. The moment he saw her a small growl permeated the air and Freddie rolled her eyes - werewolves were such savage creatures honestly. She had no idea how Jack had managed to keep one on the leash for so long, “Why am I not surprised to see you here.”

“You seem upset. I’m just here to get information about the death of the fae families - same as you.”

She pulled out a tumbler of water and tapped it two times with her pen, turning the water hot and filling the air with a pleasant aroma when she uncapped the top, “Information for a story?”

She took a sip. “Is it so wrong that I want to tell people the truth?” She had no idea what problem any of these people had with her, she only wanted to better the world.

“You’re stories are supernatural gossip and have ruined lives.” He growled again and Freddie tsked at him.

“They have also saved lives.” She reminded him, “Now, what is this that I’ve heard about The Great Red Dragon returning?”

“If the Dragon was returning I wouldn’t tell you about it.”

Ugh. Next time Freddie was going to bring some sort of truth perfume. It hadn’t worked on Hannibal the last time she had worn it, but she wondered just what Will would tell her if she wore it around him. It tended to bring out things made hidden, “And why is that?” She asked.

“Because in the last piece you wrote, you called Hannibal and I monster husbands.”

“Should I not publish the truth?” She inquired, “Poor Randall Tier honestly. When they found his bones they were licked clean. Not a single bit of meat on them. That was the two of you, correct?”

The sound of his growl grew and he stalked forward, snatching her journal out of the air and ripping out the pages on which her notes were written, “I’m done having this conversation with you.”

He stuffed the notes in his pocket and then she watched as his form shifted. It wasn’t fully wolf - someone like Will wouldn’t risk transforming completely - but she could see the animal in him. How his hair became a little more wild, a little untamed. How his body, usually so lithe gained muscle where there had been none. Then he was running through the brush at pace that she could not hope to match taking her notes with him. Freddie picked up her journal off the ground from where Will had discarded it and brushed off the dirt staring off in the direction in which Willl had run. When she was sure that he was not coming back she started to walk towards the house. While it was true that her conversation with Will had been a bit of a miss, there was nothing to say that there wasn’t anything in the fae home that she could use to tell a good story.

**\- Abigail -**

In her boredom she had turned the whole house cold with her breath and then put on Molly’s body. She was regretting it now of course. Little Will was shivering and she’d been forced to make him a small blanket out of scraps. He also wasn’t speaking to her. To make matters worse - she was starting to feel cold too. The original plan had just been to see how long she could stand in the frigid temperature, but then the phone had rung. And now she was stuck bundled up in a coat while she talked to her dad on the other end, “Freddie Lounds is a bitch.” She concluded, “Are you sure I can’t haunt her? Just a little bit?”

Will’s voice sounded warm when he laughed, “No haunting Freddie. She has all sorts of spells up in her home, she’d know it was you in an instant.”

It was true. Someone had broken into Freddie’s home a few months ago and Freddie had put up a blog post about it a scant few hours later. With pictures. Everyone had known that Freddie was in England at the time, so what she had done should have been impossible. It had been more of a statement piece than anything - but it had done it’s job in telling people to never break into her home, “So how is Hannibal?” She changed the subject.

“He’s angry at me.” He told her.

“You’re angry at him too.” She pouted, “You didn’t tell him about me.”

She had been furious about it at first. She thought Hannibal deserved to know that she was alive. However after she had cooled down, she had realized that turnabout was fair play. Hannibal had hidden her at his seaside home for so long that she figured her dad deserved some sort of payback. So she was going along with it for now. But she was determined to have this little spat between them end differently this time, “I am angry at him.” He said and then sighed, “When I’ve mellowed I’ll let him know.”

“And when do you think that will be?” She asked.

“I’m not sure.” He answered honestly, “My blood is running hotter than normal right now.”

“Figure it out soon, okay? I’m tired of this body. I hate pretending to be your wife - it’s not fun.”

“I’ll try.”

“When are you going to be back home? I miss you.”

He had been sent by Jack a few hours out of state to look at one of the growing list of murder scenes. It was Jack’s hope that her dad’s gift of empathy would pick something up. Will had wanted her to stay in D.C with him but Jack had put a stop to that. He had insisted that Molly would be safer at home, and out of harm's way. In the end Will had caved to stop Jack from asking anymore questions. On the ride back to the motel Abigail’s protests had come to naught, “Soon I hope.” He said, “The murder scenes are awakening the wolf in me. There is so much blood.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Abigail had never minded the bloodshed, sometimes the chaos was fun, “Maybe it’s time we all shed our skins. In troubled times, all us freaks have is each other.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He scolded her.

That made her laugh again, the coldness of the house forgotten.

**\- Will -**

He stood in the middle of an old forest, the smell of pine in the air. He could hear the sound of a heart, not so far off and he licked his lips. He was hungry. He had been hungry for a very long time. A need to feed grew in him and he found himself chasing after the sound of the blood. It’s steady rhythm a siren’s call he couldn’t deny. As he got closer and closer the heartbeat grew fainter and fainter, until he stepped into a wooded clearing and it stopped.

In the middle of the clearing was a figure - black with horns that sprouted from its head. Moonlight bathed the whole area in an eerie glow, and almost made the creature glow. Scattered around it's almost shapeless form were bodies - and bones. Some bodies were long dead, but others were freshly killed - blood made black leaking from wounds and pouring into the soil to nourish it. This was an old ritual - one that spoke of history and stories lost to time. For humans it might amount to the breaking and sharing of bread after they had toiled over a hot stove. But to creatures born of dark things, the meaning went deeper and deeper still.

A shadow hand reached for him - join me it seemed to say. Look at this ritual that I have prepared for you.

Feast and be satisfied. 

When Will woke he had buried his teeth into his hand, and blood dripped down from around the puncture he had made. He pulled his teeth free, and shakily walked into the bathroom to wash himself clean. Inside the bathroom he glanced into the mirror and at his wild yellow eyes that stared back at him. Such hungry eyes. 

His belly growled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is reading! While this is looking a bit like the show so far, I do have a few twists planned, I think they should start showing up in chapter 4.


	3. Those of Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wheels begin to turn and those things that were hidden, cannot stay undiscovered forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is heavily inspired by [this](http://amatesura.tumblr.com/post/166500773651) gif set by tumblr user [amatesura](http://amatesura.tumblr.com/). Thank you so much for letting me use your gif set for inspiration. 
> 
> I knew I wouldn't finish the fic on Halloween, but I can at least post a chapter today!

**\- Reba -**

The room was silent as they entered but if she concentrated she swore she could make out two heartbeats. They thrummed out of sync, but there was still something beautiful in the pattern that they created together. Like drums, or hail as it battered against a window during a storm. A reminder of the chaotic music that made up life. Gently a hand took hold of her elbow to direct her in the right direction, and then helped her come to a slow stop, “Where are we?” She asked.

“The zoo.” The voice from the bus stop told her bluntly.

That made her laugh, “Yes but where in the zoo? There are many indoor areas but this one is oddly quiet.”

Wherever they were was clearly private, tucked away from human voices and human activity. Things here were still but for the sound of hearts, and Reba felt it deep in her bones. The hand that was on her elbow slid lightly down her arm and touched the back of her hand. Here it halted guiding her in where to go. Despite hardly knowing this person Reba felt it in her to trust. And yet fire that she felt in the veins of the skin that held her, spoke of a trust that might someday backfire. For now though, she was happy to enjoy the presence of someone who did not judge her - instead choosing to embrace all her edges, “A place for just the two of us.” He answered, and then placed her hand on something warm.

Beneath her hand, Reba felt the softest fur she had ever encountered. She threaded her fingers through it and let out a breath at how it stimulated her fingertips. Every nerve ending in her body came alive as the feeling traveled from the pads of her fingers to her brain, where it settled and created a soft glow. She leaned down to put her head on whatever it was she was petting so she could hear the heartbeat she had heard when she had come into the room, “What are you?” She whispered more to the animal but also - to the man she knew so little of.

Only one of the creatures answered, “I am old and lost to time.” The animal under her seemed to rumble, “Ask a gift of me and I shall grant it.”

“Let me see you.” She wished.

And unknown feeling seemed to spread out from the creature under her. Then light filled her eyes and she blinked. For a moment her blindness felt like walking through a snowstorm, and then she found herself standing in a jungle - sight returned to her. Dew dripped off the trees, and mist fogged the air. In front of her stood the largest cat she had ever seen. By all appearances it was a tiger, but no tiger had ever been this big and this tiger seemed to be many tigers at once. Impossible yet possible at the same time, “Your question was rather pure child of god.” It’s voice rumbled everywhere around them like rolling thunder.

“It has been a long time since I have seen.” She walked around the tiger as it stood in front of her, “Where are we?”

“Where things are restored for a time.”

She knew the animal spoke truth. For even as they stood she could feel that which she had lost grow. Inside her she could feel the anima of wings - pure and white in their essence. Closing her eyes she did not deny them. Instead Reba let them sprout from her back - large in size, full of menace and hope. She looked at the tiger, “I have shown you mine. Will you show me yours?”

As she asked the tiger begun to change, until it stood on two feet - humanoid with the darkest skin Reba had ever seen. The only thing that did not change was its face which remained that of a tiger. Reba walked forward and reached up to trace the features that were so clear to her now. For she had forgotten that she no longer needed to. It allowed her this, and she reached under its mouth to trace the fangs that marked it something other. A fierce ethereal being long forgotten to time. Finally content in her exploration she stepped back, “I am Tefnut.” The goddess said, “I have long been in this form but only you have discovered this of me.”

“You are beautiful.” Reba said.

“I am not the only one.”

“Thank you.” Reba told her, a hotness climbing into her cheeks to stain them red.

“You are very welcome.” Tefnut said, “But our time here is limited. You must return. There is work to be done.”

“There is always work to be done” Reba replied.

Then there was shadow as the light bleed slowly away. When Reba blinked all she could hear was a heartbeat. Removing her head from where it lay she looked in the direction of the other heartbeat, “You have given me something beautiful today.” She told him.

“Indeed?” He asked her.

“Indeed.”

In that room Reba sequestered away the secret of the tiger in front of her. Someday Tefnut would find another body, another spirit to inhabit. But today she had chosen to share her gifts and her knowledge with Reba. To return, just for a moment - something Reba had thought taken from to her forever.

**\- Bedelia -  
**

Music filled the room, as Bedelia tipped the tiny silver watering can forward to pour a small stream of water into the pot in front of her. Behind her, Will sat leisurely seemingly unperturbed. She knew there was fear in him though, the leaves on the ivy in the pot near her chair had wilted a bit. They were running away from the foul smell in the room. Bedelia found she could not disagree with them. They were thirty minutes into their session, and she wondered just what he hoped to gain from this. Surely not self actualization, “Did your love of plants sustain you, even when Hannibal used them to fatten you up?” He asked.

The whole afternoon had been like this - barbs aimed to poke and prod. He wanted her to be as unsteady as he was, but in that she had the advantage. It was easy to brush comments off when you were long already unmoored. And Bedelia had been unmoored for some time. Hannibal would come to collect sooner or later. Human glass could not hold him hence. It was such a breakable and brittle thing. Better to enjoy what little time she had left, “Plants, like all thing - need care.” She told him, “Have you suffered from a lack of care?”

“I think I’ve done alright for myself.” He said, “Better than cowering away in hidden grottoes.”

“Is that what you see?”

It wasn’t really a question - Bedelia’s current residence wasn’t exactly the luxury that she was used to. But it was enough. A small greenhouse outback took in sunlight, creating beauty that would long endure after she was gone. She had already contacted another nymph in the area to make sure, “What I see doesn’t matter.” That made Bedelia scoff, what Will Graham saw was all that mattered, to be seen and seen alike.

“Now why would you say such an untruthful thing like that?” She finished watering her plants and walked over to sit across from him, “He who holds the gaze of a god, holds it well.”

“Are you comparing Hannibal to a god?” Will asked.

“Do you think the comparison doesn’t fit?”

“I think Hannibal fashions himself a god.” He told her, “If he is one or not remains to be seen.”

“And what would he have to do to prove his divinity?”

Bedelia found Will an interesting creature. He was born of the earth like she and Hannibal were, but he denied the call that was the undercurrent of natural instinct. It was there, but hidden - despite Hannibal’s attempts to nurture it, “Fly?” He answered sarcastically, “We are all creatures of flesh and blood.”

“Some longer lived than others.” She reminded him.

“But we can all die the same.” There was something wicked and pointed about how he said it to her.

“Does that please you then? Death and all its accoutrements?”

“Are you asking me if I like to kill things?”

“You said it.” She shrugged back at him, “Not me.”

“It is not my job to decide who lives and who dies.”

“But it’s Hannibal’s?”

There was a pause then, and she could see him struggle to answer. That pleased her. She didn’t have his appetite for death, but there was something about making one of the forests most vicious creatures squirm, “He thinks that it is.”

Ah - what an attempt at a deft dodge. But Bedelia knew that sort of slipperiness. As she considered this a bird flew into the room a letter clutched in its beak. It landed on her chair and she took the small note out of its mouth. She read it over a few times to make sure she understood what it was saying and then looked up at the man across from her, “It seems our time is going to be cut short today.”

“Oh?”

She handed him the letter to read, “It seems an acquaintance of mine has discovered where the Dragon will be next.”

Once he was finished reading the letter Will Graham stared up at her, “It seems they have.”

**\- Frederick -  
**

“How did you get my phone number?” The text read.

“Jack gave it to me.” He wrote back.

“Please lose it.” Was texted back to him at a rapid rate.

He rolled his eyes, “Coffee first?”

“What makes you think I’ll have coffee with you?” The text asked.

“Because you hate being on the outside of this thing as much as I do.” He wrote back.

There was a pause and a message was started and then the bubble disappeared as the message was rewritten, “Fine. But I get to pick the place.”

“As long as the coffee isn’t terrible, I refuse to put swill in my body.” He answered.

“Ha.” Was the only thing sent back.

“So Friday?”

“Friday is fine. Can we do a late coffee, say 5pm?” The person on the other end suggested.

“That’s okay with me.” He typed and sent.

“See you then.”

“See you then.”

Frederick put his phone down and crossed his hands over his chest. He hoped meeting Molly wasn’t a mistake - but he wanted to know about the life Will had lead since Hannibal had been imprisoned. He was going to get information, no matter the cost.

**\- Abigail -  
**

Abigail stared down at her phone and then laughed out loud in the home she shared with her dad.

This was going to be fun.

**\- Will -  
**

The building was a small thing - tucked out of the way and protected by a few witch spells. Only those with supernatural sight could see it. As he stepped inside he was greeted by a man who smiled at him tightly. Whoever had tipped off Bedelia had been dead on. He could smell fire and ash in the air. The Dragon was here, “Downstairs.” The man in front of him whispered softly, like he was terrified to be overheard. 

“Why did he come here?” Will asked.

“We’ve been owners of a piece of art for over a few hundred years. It’s the only piece that shows his face. His true face.”

That explained it. If he was still struggling to reach his full power The Dragon would have come here to gaze upon the one thing that he wanted most of all, “Show me.” He said.

The man took him to an elevator and pressed the button to go downward. When the elevator opened he held it ajar for Will who stepped inside. Will wasn’t surprised when the man reached in to hit the button for the basement but did not get inside. Once he had pressed the button he stepped back and nodded almost fearfully at Will. Then the doors closed and Will allowed himself to surrender to his fate.

Pulling a knife out of his pocket he used it to nick his finger and stuck the bleeding appendage in his mouth. He sucked on it until the blood ran dry and allowed the his eyes to cloud over in gold. The man wasn’t needed here, but the wolf was. And goddamn the blood was so good. Jack would be upset with him but Jack didn’t fully understand what it meant to go against a dragon.

The elevator dinged and the doors parted. Stepping into the basement, Will inhaled. The scent of smoke was stronger down here and he let out a growl, stroking his blood lust with a fervor. He let the scent guide him through the archives of the museum, and with each step forward his need to bite and tear flesh grew. His mouth almost salivated with it. No wolf had ever tasted dragon - he wanted to be the first. As he thought of the splendor that would be dragon meat his nails began to elongate and he felt the fullness of his beard grow. He growled again and this time his growl was met by another.

A tall man, decorated with muscle came around the corner and the two of them stared at each other for a moment before need took over and Will leapt. A quick hand darted out to wrap around his neck and slam him into one of the walls. He howled and dug his claws into the arm that held him and barred his teeth, gnashing them at the man who had pinned him. At the man who dared attempt to stop his feast. The hand holding his neck threw him away unto the ground and Will’s body smacked against a bookcase before it came to a stop. There was a pause.

Standing, Will watched as the dragon fled to towards elevator that Will had come down in and an ugly snarl ripped itself from Will’s throat. Come fight it me it said, you are a coward. Come feed me for I am hungry and I demand blood. He gave chase, but the dragon remained ever so out of reach. Inside the elevator cage The Dragon smirked and with little care, pushed the button that would take him away from the fight. Will bounded ever closer but found himself too late. 

Next time, Will told himself - he would not be so merciful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone who is reading. I struggled a bit with what to make Bedelia, I looked up a few things because I wasn't 100% solid on my first choice, but none of them felt right. In the end I went with my original idea and stuck to my gut.


	4. The Deadliest Blade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dragon makes his move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is heavily inspired by [this](http://amatesura.tumblr.com/post/166500773651) gif set by tumblr user [amatesura](http://amatesura.tumblr.com/). Thank you so much for letting me use your gif set for inspiration. 
> 
> I found the plot.

**\- The Dragon -  
**

Francis almost kicked the door to his lair shut. Anger greater than any he had ever felt bubbled up inside of him. He glanced down at the healing nail marks on his arm and his hand curled into fist. Rage turned his knuckles white. His plans would have to be hurried. Gone were the days when supernatural creatures shied away from humans, the days where humans would stumble lost into forests - ripe for the eating. Things had changed in the many eons he had been trapped in this infernal human form. Waiting and praying for a small misstep - a small clue as to how to breakout of the terrible prison of flesh the fae had bound him to.

But he had found the answer in tomes buried deep in mountain tombs, where the fae had once lived and long abandoned for human houses and human abodes. The answer seemed simple: the ability to take fae essence and turn it into a weapon - a living breathing thing. Oh, what joy he felt on that day. The day he beheld his freedom in words, in magic that stained fading pages. All he had needed was blood, a warlock, and a magic mirror - shattered into pieces and made into small trinkets left behind. Such a simple thing magic.

He stalked down the hall to the door that lead to the basement and opened it, skulking into the deep depths of his art studio. There in the corner was a cage, and in it sat his warlock prize. The two men looked at each other and he smiled, “I have need of you.” Francis said.

The man glared at him, but Francis knew he would do what was asked - he always did. It was hard not to when Francis threatened his family, “What need do you have dragon?”

“Great Dragon.”

The warlock was fond of his little rebellions, “Great Dragon.” The warlock said, with clear sarcasm, “What need do you have?”

“I need you to find someone for me.”

The warlock blinked up at him stupidly, “For what purpose?”

“What greater purpose is there but revenge?”

“I will need materials.” The warlock told him.

“I will get them to you.”

“Then I will preform this spell for you.”

“Good.”

Francis walked across the room and picked up a pad of paper and pencil and handed them between the bars. As The warlock begun to write down what he would need for the spell, Francis moved over to the easel he had been working on. A face, dark like the moon and beautiful as the sea stared back at him. He would have to cut her out of his life soon. A fallen angel could never understand the plight of a defeated dragon. He dragged his hand down the canvas, smudging the partially dry paint. He brought his fingers to his face and drew the paint down his cheeks, decorating himself with Reba’s essence. A goddess above all. His beloved treasure, bright and shiny and gold.

Desire that tasted like fire, surged through his body and he let it out hot from his nose. Love was such a terrible thing. He had not felt love in some time. His last love, a fair maiden had run away the moment he had touched her. Gone to her prince in waiting and sent him up into the mountains where they had clashed for hours. In the end the prince had created a cave-in, and years later when Francis had escaped his prison he had found the kingdom boasting of his defeat. He had eaten whole flocks of sheep then. To eat the humans was suicide, but destroying crops and animals was easy. The kingdom had gone under not shortly after, unsure of where the terrible luck had come from.

After that he had sworn to himself that he would never love again and if he found it, he would not let love dictate his choices. This was no different. Love was a sword that one fell upon. It cut and it bruised and it dug deeper and deeper still, until it could be used against you as a weapon of great and terrible beauty. He picked up the canvas and moved it aside to replace it with a new one. As he stared at it a grin broke over his features. Oh yes - love was the weapon he would wield against this werewolf who dared. This man who thought he could best a dragon.

**\- Alana -  
**

“Morgan please stop running around the house.” She told her son as he jumped between the shadows.

The boy himself was a miracle. Born from her egg, and then willingly turned at the appropriate age by Mason’s blood and Margot’s bite. The blood had been preserved by some sort of deep magic that only Hannibal seemed to wield. A gift, Hannibal had told her when he had done it. But Alana knew that all gifts came with a price. She just hoped that it would be awhile until Hannibal came to collect his.

Morgan turned to stick his tongue out at his mother, “I’m bored.”

“Go see if your mother has need of you then.”

Children with far too much time and money were always a problem at this age. Alana knew she had been, and Margot had told her that she had been one as well. She hoped the fae magic in his blood would allow him a steady but rapid growth, the same as other fae vampires. But she worried that Hannibal had done something to the blood. There wasn’t any way to really know for a little while longer, “Fine.” He pouted and left the room.

Across the couch from her Will laughed, “He’s a good kid.”

“All children are good children.” She told him.

“Until they are not.” Will argued.

“Monsters, all of them.” Alana agreed good naturedly, “Why have you come to see me?”

It was the first time Will had come to see her since Hannibal had been put away. She wasn’t foolish enough to think it was just a house call on someone he had once considered a friend. However she couldn’t help but hope that this debacle helped bring them closer together again. She wanted their friendship to be mended. Not enough to beg, she wouldn’t bring herself that low - but she hoped, “Do you think it’s possible that The Dragon may never be able to get his powers back? Not in the way that he envisions.” Will queried her.

“What do you mean?” Alana asked, because no - she had not considered it.

“He is human now - more or less. He seemed powerful when I met him but different, angry about something. Fae blood and fae essence might make him stronger, but he may not be able to return to his true form ever again.”

“I’ll have to look at some of my father’s older books - but you might be on to something.” Alana tried to rack her brain for exactly which book she would need to read, “Why do you bring this up?”

“Because it means we might actually have a chance at defeating him. Of killing him for good.”

That was true. But even a weakened dragon was still a dragon. They were not things so easily defeated, “Where there is a will there is a way.” She quoted something her father had been found of saying.

“I am right here.” He told her.

It took a moment for her to realize that he was playing off her use of the word will but when she did she laughed, “I have missed this.” She admitted honestly.

“Solving crimes?” He asked.

“Laughing with you.” She told him, “We used to be friends.”

“We used to be many things.” He replied a bit too somberly for her liking.

It was true. Will had been one of the few people who had known she was a fae before he had been bitten. Telling a human had been a risk - but somehow she had known she could trust him. Then he had been bitten and changed into one of them. It had made things rather complicated. Werewolves were always a bit of an outlier in the supernatural community, like vampires. Unlike most supernatural they were not born, they were made. This meant that they were sometimes seen as unstable, un-trustable. Alana had never believed any of that, but Will hadn’t taken to the turning well. His body had rebelled against him. It had made her afraid - and distant. Putting space between them had been a mistake. Now that she had Margot - another so called unstable creature, she could see that. But it was impossible to go back and change past actions, “We could be them again.”

“Will you whisper your fae secrets to me again?” He asked.

“No.” Fae secrets were things to only be whispered to willing human ears, “But I can offer you tea and understanding.”

“Understanding.” It was a question, but the flat way he said it hid that fact.

“Jack will never admit it, but I can see it in your eyes - you miss him.”

“Hannibal.” Will supplied.

“If that is what you want to call him.”

Hannibal’s true name was something almost unsaid, softly murmured between those who knew it. Those who had either discovered it in old writings or were told it directly like Will had been, “It may not be who he used to be, but it is who he is now.” Will told her.

“We are all changed by time.” Alana agreed with him.

For decades Alana had known Hannibal. One day, when very drunk on fairy dew he had divulged his true name to her. Alana had been shocked - but not so worried. His kind had the ability to do terrible things, but something about Hannibal had been tempered over time. Or so she had thought. Instead Hannibal had gotten better at hiding it, the terrible habit he had picked up in his solitude from humanity. Eating humans - so few of his kind did so. She snorted, “Are you okay?” He asked.

“I might have lost what I had with Hannibal, but it is not so hard to see why you would gravitate that way. I have judged you for long enough - I free you from that.”

“It was not yours by right to judge me.” He paused, “But thank you.”

Alana nodded, he was right. It mattered little if she judged him or not. He didn’t need her words to make any choice he planned to make or had made long ago, “Tea?” She asked.

“I would love tea.” He answered.

In Will’s acceptance of that small act Alana realized one important thing - there was hope for them yet.

**\- Abigail -  
**

“Tell me about Hannibal.” She insisted in Molly’s body.

“He’s…” Frederick hiccuped a little, “He’s okay. Bored, he paces a lot. With his long legs. And stupid hair.”

They were at Will’s home. It wasn’t exactly where she had wanted to have a late coffee but she hadn’t wanted to drive into the city, and it was easier to play with him here. She had spiked his coffee with a small bit of William’s pixie dust and alcohol. He hadn’t noticed and over the night he had gotten progressively drunker. The whole time William had been in the corner giggling at him, “Stupid hair?”

“Very stupid.” Frederick told her, “And he did this blood ritual? To find The Dragon. And I had to watch while Alana watched and it was the most boring thing I had ever witnessed.”

“A blood ritual?” She raised her eyebrow, “How very terrifying.”

“It didn’t work.” He nodded, “Now you tell me what you know.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know much.” She shrugged.

Her statement wasn’t all that true. Her dad had called her a day ago to let her know that he had shared a successful cup of tea with Alana, and that he had fought but lost to The Dragon. Abigail had bemoaned the loss and then asked more questions about his tea. It wasn’t that she hated Alana, but she knew that her father hadn’t been very fond of her for some years. She thought a little bit of it was jealousy. Hannibal had a problem with people touching what he thought belonged to him. When she had a chance to see him again she would try to stop him from killing Alana. The woman could be a little annoying but she didn’t deserve to die in the way that her father was fond of killing people, “Aren’t you his wife? Isn’t he supposed to tell you things?”

“Oh of course.” Abigail nodded, “But he’s so vague all the time. I’m sorry if I somehow lead you to believe otherwise.” She said this in her most convincing wife voice and then reached out very deliberately to pat his leg.

The moment her hand shot forward he scooted away from her, “Sorry I haven’t had anything to eat in a very long time. If you touch me I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Oh?” She reached out to pat him again.

That caused him to stand up and walk a little bit away from her, “Please!” His eyes stared into hers for a moment and then glanced over her shoulder to look outside, “Did you hear that?”

Abigail stared at him and then outside, “No?”

“Listen.” He told her.

For a moment neither of them spoke and then she heard it. A twig snapped outside, and then another. There was someone here. Her first thought was of the dogs - but she had put them to sleep early in their shed outside. She had even slipped a little bit of pixie powder into their food to knock them out. Will would be furious at her if he found out but she had no intention of telling him. She just hadn’t wanted them to interrupt her play. So they should be safe she surmised, “I hear it.” She told him.

This was the worst possible time for a home invasion. She didn’t dare attempt to show her true form, so she would have to play along, “Do you have any weapons?” Frederick asked.

“A shot gun.” She answered.

“Go get it, quickly.”

Abigail nodded and made note of how quickly it seemed Frederick had sobered up. Leaving him in the living room she escaped to Molly’s bedroom and knelt down to receive the shotgun under the bed. The moment her fingers wrapped around it there was the sound of breaking wood, and a door slamming inward, “Where is she?” A voice asked.

Abigail froze - whoever it was, was looking for her. Or Molly, she wasn’t sure. Frederick’s voice floated down the hall, “Who?”

“The ghost.” The voice answered.

So clearly whoever it was, wasn’t looking for Molly. It knew exactly who she was and exactly where she lived. She wondered how they had found out. Maybe if she continued to play along with Frederick, she could convince both of them she wasn’t what at least one of them seemed to suspect she was. As she debated what to do, the voices continued to talk, “There isn’t a ghost here.”

“It’s not wise to lie to a dragon. We are very good at sniffing those things out.”

Ice, stronger and more intense than any she could produce filled Abigail. This couldn’t be happening. Her dad had told her how powerful The Dragon was. But it wasn’t just Will’s stories she had to go off of - she had been there for that initial meeting with Jack. Letting go of the shotgun, knowing how useless it would be she opened the door and crept down the hall as the voices continued to talk behind her. In the kitchen she put out a small thing of dew and watched as William materialized in front of her, “We must be quiet.” She whispered to the pixie, “There is a dragon here. If anything happens to me - you must let my dad know.”

“Dragon?” The pixie said with wide eyes.

“Yes. Now hide - I know you are very good at that. Hide and do not come out for an hour for anyone but me or Will do you understand?”

The pixie nodded in understanding and Abigail was glad. As it vanished again she heard a scream and then smelled smoke. Bracing herself she ran back into the living room only to witness the most grotesque thing she had ever seen. Frederick’s body lay on the floor. He was still breathing but much of his skin had been burnt from him. As she entered The Dragon turned to look at her, “Just who I was looking for.”

As he lunged for her Abigail knelt, ducking under him as he crashed to the floor behind her. Reaching out she touched Frederick, causing a pained moan to come from his lips. Ghost cold poured from her hand as she brought the temperature in Frederick’s body down. It would keep him alive and in stasis for some time, although she doubted if he would ever fully recover. A hand reached out to grip her leg and Abigail turned to glare at the man who held her, “That doesn’t work on someone like me.” She told him. 

“Oh?” The Dragon removed his hand and Abigail looked down to see that a strange symbol had been placed on her leg, “Do you not think that I would account for that?”

Pushing against the human body she was in, Abigail found her ability to leave it hindered, “Eat shit.” She told him.

He laughed at her and stood up to his full height, “It’s time to go to bed little ghost. May your rest be an unpleasant.”

He reached into his pocket to blow powder her way and then all Abigail knew was darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who ordered a cliffhanger? 
> 
> Thanks again for all the reviews, likes, and clicks :)


	5. The Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't poke the (very metaphorical) bear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is heavily inspired by [this](http://amatesura.tumblr.com/post/166500773651) gif set by tumblr user [amatesura](http://amatesura.tumblr.com/). Thank you so much for letting me use your gif set for inspiration.

**\- Jack -  
**

Since the altercation at the supernatural museum any and all leads on The Dragon had dried up. Jack had theorized that perhaps The Dragon was gathering his strength in order to finally be able to reach his true form again. This was a good hypothesis and Will had told him so over the phone. Especially based on what Will had also told him the day before regarding his theory that The Dragon was struggling to even obtain his natural body. But Will had also told him over the phone that he didn’t think that Jack was correct. So Jack had yelled at him, perhaps a little too harshly now that Jack thought back on it - and ordered him to come into his office so the two of them could talk it over, “So you have no idea what The Dragon is up to?”

Will shrugged unhelpfully, “He’s gone quiet Jack. I can empathize but I can’t predict the future.”

“Well try.” Jack said.

He knew that he was asking a lot but The Dragon had been menacing them for far too long and he refused to let this go on any longer. It was getting ridiculous at this point. None of Hannibal’s contacts had reached out since that first connection either, which meant that The Dragon was laying low for the foreseeable future, “I made him mad.”

“And just what does that have to do with anything?” Jack leaded backwards in his chair.

“Dragons have always been creatures of retaliation. It’s in every myth and book. You disturb them in their lair, and they seek revenge.”

“And what sort of revenge do you think this dragon would attempt to foist upon you?”

Jack watched as the wheels in Will’s head started to move as they did when he was thinking deeply. For the second time silence filled the spaces between them, but Jack hoped it was far more productive than their last bit of conversation had been, “I don’t know.” Will finally answered.

“Well figure it out.” Jack growled.

The moment the sound left his mouth he heard Will growl back in answer. Sometimes he forgot that Will was one of the other now. He had just been an empath when they had met. A brilliant empath, but a human one. Will’s fondness to take in dogs had bitten him, literally and figuratively one day and that had changed everything. Part of Jack still wanted to deny what had happened to the man in front of him, but history was quick to remind him of what the truth of the matter was, “I’m not a dog that you can make do tricks Jack. It doesn’t work like that.”

“I know you’re not.”

“Then stop treating me like one.”

“I don’t need the wolf, I just need the empath.”

“If that was true I wouldn’t be here. There are plenty of empaths who could tell you what I do. But there are no empaths who would also have a shot at killing The Dragon.”

“I don’t expect you to -”

In the middle of their argument there was a pop and a small fairy boy appeared in the center of Jack’s desk. He pushed his chair away from his desk in surprise and reached over to grab something to swat at the offending creature. However the way that Will looked at the fairy, or what Jack assumed was a fairy - staid his hand, “William?” Will asked.

“House.” The fairy said, “Dragon. Mother taken.”

“Molly?” Will asked.

The fairy nodded and Jack watched as a number of conflicting emotions passed over Will’s face. Rage, sadness, and then finally hope, “She’s not dead.”

The fairy shrugged assuming that Will had asked a question. Jack of course knew better, “What do you mean?”

“This is his revenge. If she died now he would have displayed her, to get a rise out of me. No body therefore - not dead.”

Now Jack saw the bigger picture and he found himself in agreement. On the desk the small man had started pacing back and forth, “Do you have something else to say?” Will asked.

“Other man. Body burned. Okay but in pain. Maybe dying.”

That was a language that Jack understood. Standing from his chair he picked up the phone on his desk and quickly dialed a number. After a short conversation he looked over at Will, “Come on, let’s go.”

Across from him Will nodded, “Just give me a moment with William.”

“Fine.” Jack was already across the room and putting on his coat, “But hurry up.”

He marched out the door. It wasn’t a lead, but it didn’t matter. He had a life to save.

**\- Abigail -  
**

She woke blinking and looked around. She was in a room filled with thousands of golden trinkets. A dragon's lair her mind provided. There were other things too - a couch, a small old TV from nearly ten years ago, a few tables upon which some of the trinkets were heaped upon. So not just a lair, a living room. She was in The Dragon’s living room. The thought was so ridiculous she had to laugh. All the picture books her father had read to her, in order to help her learn the facets of humanity had said that dragons were huge winged lizards. This was oddly human. Although considering how The Dragon had looked - maybe he was human now too. Strong, and able to breath fire - but humanoid enough that he needed a human house to live in.

Moving her hands around she tried to pull herself free from the ropes that bound her to the chair she was sat upon, but found herself rather shit out of luck. Looking around the room she couldn’t locate a sharp object either. There were plenty of sharp edged objects, but nothing that would cut through rope. Feeling a bit brave at finding herself more alive than she had originally assumed she would be Abigail called out into the house, “Hello?”

No one answered and she bit her lip in frustration. This was not how she had expected to die a second time. She wiggled again but when the ropes still refused to loosen was forced to stare at the clock on the wall in order to pass the time. A half an hour later the door to the house finally opened and The Dragon stepped inside, “I’m glad to see you have not moved.” He told her.

“It’s not like I can really go anywhere.” She arched an eyebrow back at him.

“You have attempted to though.”

Abigail wished she had her hands to gesture but instead all she could do was raise her eyebrows and give him what she hoped was a sarcastic look, “I mean wouldn’t you? If the situations were reversed?”

“The situations are not reversed.”

God - The Dragon was a little dense actually. Well, if she was going to die at least she could go down unafraid. Last time she had been terrified but excited. She wanted to have a different look upon her face when death came for her this time, “What did you do to me by the way?”

“A few simple magic tricks cast by a very kind warlock. Dead now, as he’s no longer needed.”

That must have been how he had discovered just who she was too. As of this day Abigail decided she hated warlocks. If she needed any magic done she would go to a witch. Not that they were better most of the time - but they hadn’t gotten her trussed up like some sort of hapless victim. The warlock had been a coward, “Good.” She told him, “So what’s to be done with me?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Well that was quite the thing to admit Abigail thought. It was a very good thing she didn’t need to eat to survive anymore. Oh she could when she was in a human body - thus the coffee. But she didn’t need to. If she was going to be stuck here for the foreseeable future she might as well try to make the best of it, “Well that’s comforting.”

“Are you always this talkative?” The Dragon asked.

“No, I just get snarky with all my kidnappers.”

“What lucky men.” He answered flatly.

She shrugged, “I liked the last person who kidnapped me. Sort of kidnapped me.” She amended, “His house was nicer than yours.”

At that The Dragon stalked over to her and tipped her chair back so they could see eye to eye. Abigail thought he meant to be frightening, but she thought it made him see easily quick to temper. Maybe she could get him to eat the body she was in? If she got him to eat her then perhaps she would be free of the mark that he had placed on her ankle. It was at least the semblance of some sort of plan, “This is my cherished home.” He said, “Do not insult eons worth of treasure.”

“Got it.”

Dragons were really just big brutes with a lot of power, Abigail noted. Maybe too much power. She could see why people would be terrified, but as a ghost she found she was just sort of - not. As she considered her very real lack of fear the doorbell rang and the sound of the bell changed her mood considerably. Because if there was one thing that she did remember it was Frederick’s charred body, “Don’t say a word.” He told her and let her chair fall to the ground.

He walked away from her and in that moment Abigail considered her options - she could scream or she could let whoever it was walk away. They would be safe, and out of harm. There would be a distinct lack of charred bodies. It would be the right thing to do - the kind thing to do.

But the truth was - Abigail was not kind.

**\- Reba -  
**

Reba rang the doorbell again and wondered if she was really in the right place. She wished she could see, so she could have some sort of distraction. But instead she was left with the thoughts inside her own mind. Left to wonder if stopping by was the correct choice. But after her encounter with Tefunt her mystery suitor had gone oddly quiet. So she had done her own sort of research, and found what she suspected was his home address. There was a pause and then the door opened like a shot. She moved her face to follow the sound and stared up at what she hoped was the face of the man she had meet, “Reba.” the voice said.

“It is you.”

She smiled. He was okay then, and her worry had been for nothing. However as she stood outside in the cold she could hear a tension in his voice, a slight wavier - that made her rethink her original confidence, “May I come in?” She asked.

“I’m a bit busy at the moment.” He told her.

“Oh.” She paused, “May I come back?”

Somehow she had the sense that if she left she would never see him again. That things were ending as all things ended. She wondered what had happened. She did not think it was anything she had done - because their last interaction had been a good one. Instead it must have been something that had happened to him, to make him think that their relationship wasn’t a good idea. Something that wasn't worth perusing. Reba was used to this of course, often times people left her behind. There wasn’t much use for a tarnished fallen angel. Even if no one knew what she was, the scars ran so deep it didn’t matter, “I think that would be for the best.” He answered.

The moment he finished speaking a blood curdling female scream split the air from behind them. Unthinking Reba pushed past him and into the house. She heard her bus stop man growl, which was odd enough. As she entered the house a voice called out, “Will Graham. Go find Will Graham!”

She made to walk toward the voice but taloned fingers wrapped around her arm and yanked her forward, throwing her none to kindly onto what felt like a couch. She struggled to sit up as the man who lived in this house, the man whose fire she had once feared - paced in front of her, “I told you to be quiet.” He said to someone - not her.

“Sorry. I’m not good at that.” The feminine voice answered.

There was the sound of a scuffle in front of her and then the sound of something - a body, Reba thought - hitting the floor, “Who are you?” She asked, her voice trembling.

If she was going to die she wanted to know who she was going to die to, “The Great Dragon.” The voice answered - closer now and smelling of sulfur.

“What color?” She wondered briefly at how he didn’t question her ability to instantly believe in creatures such as him.

“Red.” The voice almost purred and then faded away as The Dragon picked something up off the floor.

She had heard of The Great Red Dragon in books she had read of course. Books not made for human consumption, books that had stood the test of time. Only a few creatures could stand up to a dragon and she was no longer one of them. A tear snaked down her eye. If she was stronger she would have been able to save the woman who had screamed for her help, if she was stronger she would have been able to slay The Dragon on the spot. Smiting him for daring to touch her. The smell of smoke filled the room and she realized that The Dragon had to have set the house aflame. He would be burning his own treasures but all dragons had multiple stashes and sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

She coughed and stumbled forward. She had always known that the man wasn’t safe, but she had missed being so close to the flame. Had missed warmth. It was selfish of her. She had always been selfish. It was why God had punished her. For who was she to dare use her sight to help herself and not others. It had only been a few times, but a few times was enough. God gave his sight to help those who could not help themselves. She had broken that pact and his judgement had been swift. 

She begun to feel dizzy and knew no human help would come to her rescue. Around her the heat grew and she surrendered herself to it, “There is still work to be done.” A voice cut through the silence.

Golden light filled her, and in that moment Reba felt almost as if she could see again.

**\- Will -  
**

He stood outside The Institute as they wheeled Frederick’s body inside. Such a terrible thing to happen to an incubus - to lose their beauty, Will thought. But he could not go back in time to undo the damage, and magic had been known to work wonders. So there was some hope for him yet. Jack had declared it a miracle that Frederick had even made it, but Will knew the truth of it. His body had been touched by ghost frost - the only thing that was stopping Frederick’s body from going into complete shock. A shock that could have killed him. Alana had been called and was on her way in. Someone would have to man Frederick’s position while he was indisposed. She had sounded worried, although a little smug on the phone. Alana had always wanted Frederick’s job, but Frederick had paid the government better money for it. Margot had told Alana she would be more than willing to meet Frederick’s bid but Alana had not wanted to be given the job like that. Jack had also argued her case for her, but in the end it hadn’t been enough.

A car pulled into the drive and Alana stepped out, followed by Margot. Together they looked every inch the wealth they were. They walked up the steps to where Will was standing, “Are you okay?” Alana asked.

“I’m okay.” He answered, trying not to let worry into his voice.

“We heard about Molly.” Margot said, “Do you think she is still alive?”

“Like I told Jack, no body means she’s still alive somewhere.”

“It’s not exactly comforting.” Alana said.

It wasn’t but it was all Will had. If he thought even for a moment that The Dragon had killed Abigail and was just trying to figure out how to display her - he came close to losing it. The beast was just there, under the surface and it demanded blood. It didn’t matter who the blood belonged to. He feared if Alana dug too deep into his head he would lash out and have an angry vampire wife on his hands. That wasn’t a risk he could take, Abigail’s life depended on it, “Alana, I’m not sure -” Margot stopped mid speech, “Holy shit.”

They were all looking where her eyesight had traveled. A beam of light seemed to part the dark sky above them. It cast down on high and came to rest on the ground not far from them. From the ethereal light a woman stepped, glowing in golden splendor. On her back were pale feathered wings that looked so full and soft they were almost as if a cloud. Her eyes were a sightless milky white, but she walked around the cars as if she could see them. Like there was a hand guiding her. Every movement too, felt like she was gliding - her feet hardly touching the asphalt. Finally she came to a stop in front of them, “Will Graham.” Her voice was soft, like a song.

Will found that he was not surprised this divine being knew his name, “That’s me.” He somehow managed to get out. 

“I am Reba.” She smiled and Will swore he heard birds singing, “She is alive.”

“And you have come to help get her back?”

She shook her head, “I can no longer directly interfere in human matters. But I can give you this bit of advice.”

“Any advice is good advice.” He told her.

“You cannot chase a dragon. To do so is foolish, for they may run faster and fly further than you can travel. However you can lure one.”

“With what?”

She shrugged, “That is for you to determine.” She sighed and then paused to consider her next words, “One last thing. In love we both drew freaks. But there is nothing wrong with who we are.”

“Who are you?” He wondered at her.

“I think you know.” She answered simply.

Then there was a flash of bright light and the woman was gone. For a moment Will took in what she had said. He had long since stopped believing in grand fates, but for this women Will found himself a believer. The beast in him called downward into the depths of The Institute where it knew its mate lay. Maybe it was time Will stopped denying himself. The last time he had, Abigail had died. There would be no more last times, “You’re fae right?” He looked at Alana and knew she would see the yellow in his eyes, “Find something that would tempt a dragon.”

“And what are you going to do?” She asked.

“Retrieve Hannibal.” He said like it was the easiest thing in the world.

And perhaps it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading :). Next chapter should be the last, followed by a short (?) epilogue.


	6. Reckoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A final confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is heavily inspired by [this](http://amatesura.tumblr.com/post/166500773651) gif set by tumblr user [amatesura](http://amatesura.tumblr.com/). Thank you so much for letting me use your gif set for inspiration. 
> 
> I can't believe there is only one chapter left ):

**\- Hannibal -  
**

Sometimes, when the days got too long in the tooth and his longing became too great he would close his eyes and slip off into his memory places,. There he would find Will waiting for him, eyes red instead of the garish yellow of the half wolf. They would sit across from each other and discuss everything under the moon. From Will’s dogs, to how to gut a corpse with the least amount of mess. But that was sometimes. Other times even that was not enough to quiet his mind. Other times seeing Will felt like a physical pain. For Will was beautiful but so far away from him. And to look, but realize that the picture that he had captured in his mind was fake - it was an ache that he could not wipe away.

On those days he would open the door of his memory places, and step outside into the wild. Here was no man's land. So filled with chaos. It wasn’t always possible for him to control what happened here. The only thing he had found that helped him maintain control was to visit far less often than he wished. For in the wilds he could run, and run he did.

His shape shifted as his body transformed into that of a stag. Antlers grew and sprouted naturally as he embraced his second form. A form as true to him as his more human one. As he changed a small fox ran in front of his path and he smiled. Come with me the fox called out to him. Forget the humans and join me in my revelry. How could he say no to such a polite request? He gave chase. Crashing through the bramble the small fox dashed under his hooves, treating their run like a game. Thread the needle. However the fox knew that Hannibal would not squish them. He wouldn’t dare.

Around them the woods parted, and branches broke as he stomped down on them. Later in life they would decompose to become one with the earth. A place for trees. Then those trees would drop branches and the whole cycle would start all over again. It was nature's own poetry. A poetry that he loved and had wished to remain in forever. But life had a way of taking such things away from you. In truth it was only when you learned how to ride the unpredictability of life, that you truly became one with nature.

The trees rushed past them, blurring together in greens and browns. Then there was a flash of blue and and an opening. As the trees faded away behind them, they came upon a cliff-side and both animals came to a stop. For a moment they stood there in the quiet, absorbing the sound. The bugs in the trees, the birds as they chirped, rodents as they crawled along branches. And then Hannibal reverted. Returned to his ever so human skin.

The fox looked up at him, black eyes blinking and Hannibal nodded. The smell of cherry blossoms filled the air as a pink mist rose up from where the fox had stood. Then a small Japanese girl, who looked no older than a young teenager shook her body out, “That was a good run was it not brother?”

They were not actually siblings but she had come to live at his house about twenty years ago, and together they had fashioned themselves a family. It was such a supernatural thing to do, the creation of found families. So much so that among their kind it was not seen as so odd, “I almost stepped on you twice Mischa.” He scolded.

“You wouldn’t dare. And I’m too wily for that.”

“You’ve been reading my books.” She hadn’t known the world wily a month ago.

“Of course I have! The ones with the tricksters are my favorite. Humans write such funny things.”

“Do they?”

“They do.” She seemed to think about something, “Why is the fox always the villain? Why can’t we be the good guy once and awhile?”

Mischa had always been a little odd for her race. She was a trickster to be sure, but she preferred the silly games played on days such as April Fools day. She had tempered him too. After so many eons one got bored of torture and wished for a break. There was still a shadow lurking inside him, but for now he was willing to let it be - for her sake, “Because foxes like to steal things.” He told her.

“Only trinkets! The kappa is much worse.” She looked out over the cliff, “We can see our house from here.”

She was right - tucked into the woods was his mansion. A purple magic shimmered around it, a barrier erected to protect it from hunters. Humans who were in the know were getting better at tracking down their kind, the magic had been a gift from a village witch, “We can.”

“It looks so tiny.” It did look very small. He hoped that it would stand for some time, that it would weather the shifting technology around them. If he had only known, “Hannibal.” A voice called out to him.

He looked down at Mischa and tilted his head. The voice had sounded like hers but her mouth hadn’t moved, “Hannibal.” The voice called again, “Hannibal I need you to return to me.”

His eyes opened and he found himself starting at a werewolf that was quite familiar to him, “Have you come to beg for forgiveness?” He asked.

Their last encounter had not been a good one. Will had accused him of dragging out the investigation in order to see him more often. He had not denied it because there had been nothing to deny. It had angered Will, and in their continued conversation Hannibal had accused Will of a many thing that had only enraged the wolf further, “I have come to ask for your help.” Will said.

“Contracts cannot be made unless a true name is spoken.” He mocked, and he could admit he was being spiteful.

“This isn’t a contract Furfur.” Will told him, using his true name against him, “It is an olive branch.”

“And what sort of branch does your olive come from?”

Will didn’t blink or flinch when he spoke his next words and Hannibal applauded his bravery, “He has our daughter.”

Oh, Will could be truly cruel when wanted to be. His wolf was cunning and Hannibal applauded him for his turnabout, “Our daughter?”

“A ghost. No thanks to you.”

So it had worked. And Will had denied him this knowledge. He loved what anger did to Will. How it sharpened his claws and his tongue. How it allowed him to use people as weapons. Daggers thrown into hearts without hesitating. And his strikes were always true, for their unpredictability made them impossible to dodge. Hannibal let out the beginning of a laugh. Will had been given the tools of his revenge and he had used them to their greatest effect. He would love this boy forever more, “What do you suggest?”

“A trap.”

“A hunt.” Hannibal supplied.

Will growled and it resonated down through Hannibal’s bones. His eyes flashed red, unbidden. The idea of hunting down a dragon was most appealing. In his long life he had never slayed a dragon, to do so would give him bragging rights in the nine realms for his eternal life. He had been an Earl for too long and the pedigree of Princedom called to him like a moth to a flame. He would name Will his consort and they would rule his realm forevermore, “A hunt.” Will agreed.

“I would love nothing more.” He flashed a smile that even Lucifer himself would love.

**\- Freddie -  
**

The sword felt heavy in her bag. When she had received a call from Alana in the dead of the night she had not expected the request. Still, it was a good request and if it got her the interview of the year - she was willing to bend the knee just the once to fae demands. And oh - the interview that Alana had promised. It also tickled her funny bone when she thought about what might be about to unfurl. The humans that ran The Institute would be so upset and she loved nothing more than to poke at their delicate anti-supernatural sensibilities. They wanted the power that the supernatural wielded so badly, but feared it just as much. In the end she thought they would loathe becoming magic. She turned the corner and knocked on the door in front of her. It opened and Alana ushered her inside, “Did you bring it?” She asked.

She pulled the sword out of her bag, “What do you think I am? This isn’t amateur hour.” She placed the sword on the table, “What do you want me to do?”

“Enchant it.” Alana told her, “Make it a siren's song that not even a dragon will be able to resist.”

“What is it?” She cocked her head, “Its magic is very old.”

“A sword that slew a Black Dragon once upon a time.” Margot told her coming to stand next to Alana.

Black Dragons were the most fearful and powerful dragons of all. Crueler, stronger, and more capricious than any. It was said that a Black Dragon was the cause of Pompeii’s fall. Those who killed one were seen as legendary heroes. Thankfully none existed anymore, hunted to extinction for the safety of supernatural kind and mankind. The one thing both groups could agree too. Freddie knew exactly what sort of plan the two women were concocting now, “A treasure a dragon will not be able to ignore. To add such a gift to his stores would land him in books of legend.”

“And beyond.” Alana agreed.

“So who is going to have the not so fun job of fighting him?”

“I thought that would be obvious.” Alana told her.

“Does Jack know you plan to let out Hannibal Lecter? The capture of an Earl of Hell was quite the get.”

“What Jack doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Margot shrugged.

The more she heard about this plan the more Freddie was excited by it. She had never liked Jack, and while she didn’t like Will or Hannibal either there was nothing wrong with getting a little mischief done through your enemies. If everything fell apart, well - who was to say she was ever here? Most supernatural creatures underestimated witches because so much of their power lay not in brute strength but magic. She laughed, “It won’t will it.” Taking her bag off her shoulder she reached deep down inside of it and pulled out a small cauldron, “I will do this spell for you.”

Then she pulled out in order - her wand, a book of spells, three vitals of firefly extract, a bottle of honey, two dried out mandrake roots, and finally two mason jars full of lilac water. Witch bags were wholly superior to human bags, “Thank you.” Alana said.

“It is my pleasure.” She waved them away with her hand, “Now get out of her. I can’t cast with a prying audience.”

Both Alana and Margot seemed to look at each other, and then they shared a nod. Then they left the room leaving Freddie alone with her magics. Bonded pairs were so odd she thought. And a little creepy.

**\- Alana -  
**

The trip down to the holding cell that contained Hannibal felt like it went on forever. Plenty of time to question if she was making the right choice or not. But fear was a powerful motivator she knew. And Alana feared. She feared greatly the power that the Red Dragon held. It had killed long-time friends of hers. Fae who had done nothing wrong. Who had planted beautiful gardens over the centuries that would now wither and die. In the end this was the only thing she could do. The only choice she had.

In front of her the elevator doors opened, and she walked down the hall to the door that kept Hannibal’s room. At the door she noted the lack of any sort of guard, and thanked her lucky stars that she was so blessed to have a vampire wife whose skills with hypnotism were so grand. Margot didn’t use them often - to even have hypnotism was seen as a danger, but sometimes she allowed herself a day off. Today was less about fun and more about necessity however. Alana opened the door in front of her, “Alana. I am so glad you have come to join us.” Hannibal’s eyes were nothing but hungry when they looked at her.

“It’s not a party until the guest of honor arrives.” She said.

“Are you so vain you see yourself as that guest?” Hannibal asked.

“Hannibal.” Will looked at him, “Not now.”

“Should I not be allowed my own jabs at those who have wronged me?”

Alana sighed. Hannibal could be so dramatic sometimes. For a demon who planned to eat her, and then eat humanity he was sometimes very much like a child, “The guest is not me but this.” She held up the sword that she had brought into the room and begun to unwrap it.

As she did Hannibal’s eyes grew round with pleasure, “Oh, what lovely bait you have chosen for The Dragon.”

“It was Will’s idea. I just provided the tool.” She handed Will the sword as she spoke, “It has a command phrase that will unseal the magic.” She took a small folded bit of paper out of her pocket, “Don’t speak it until you are sure you are away from here. The point is to keep people safe. I don’t want to be made into a fool.” He took this small scrap of paper from her as well.

“Those who say they are not fools are -” Hannibal started but was stopped by a look from Will.

“Thank you Alana.” Will said and glanced down at the paper before chuckling, “Freddie sure has a sense of humor doesn’t she.” He showed the paper to Hannibal who chuckled as well.

“I’m sure she will go to her death bed laughing about the jabs she has taken on the people she dislikes.” Alana agreed, “And Will? Be safe.”

“Same to you.”

“To hear you say that - it means a lot. Thank you.” She smiled, “This is where we part ways. Go, as the fables say - bravely forth.”

She nodded at Will and then walked out of the room. As the door swung behind her she head Hannibal speaking to Will, “You didn’t tell her I presume?”

“It’s not her secret to know.” Will answered back quietly.

Part of her wanted to run back and demand answers - but another part of her, a smarter part of her - knew that it was better this way. Come hell or high water she was done with them. Part of her thought to fear for her life with Hannibal escaped but another part of her, the better part of her - knew that Will wouldn’t let that happen. Still, she had heard that Spain was lovely this time of year.

**\- Abigail -  
**

She wasn’t exactly sure where she was. Definitely a motel - but beyond that there were few clues. In the end she wasn’t sure if it mattered. A few minutes ago it was as if something in The Dragon had switched on. He had been watching something on the TV, stealing glances at her and now he was pacing back and forth madly muttering to himself. There was a madness in his eyes, “Are you okay?” She asked tentatively.

She still wasn’t totally afraid, but The Dragon was clearly unhinged and she was curious about the whole thing. The impetus for knowledge was something she clearly shared with her father, “They have it.” He said, body almost shaking.

“Have what?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Gram.” He answered like that would explain anything to her.

“Your grandmother?”

He snorted in frustration and Abigail smelled smoke, “A legendary sword from the Norse heyday used to kill the great black dragon Fafnir. Stolen by the fae and then lost to history.”

“And you can feel it?”

He glared at her, “It calls to me. Stronger and more potent than any gold." He paused, "It is a trap.”

Abigail knew he was right - but she also knew that this might be her only way to escape. Someone was calling out to him, and she could only imagine that their intent was to kill. And god Abigail wanted to be free, “Maybe it's time for you to remind them why they once feared the dark.” She told him chilling the room with her ghostly energies, “Why they once feared you.”

“Do not presume to be on my side!” He roared and it boomed through the room.

“I know where they will go.”

Of course this wasn’t true, but she had an idea. There was a place that her father had taken her not so long ago, hidden near the sea. She imagined it the perfect place for a confrontation. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to her that The Dragon had said they. It had stood out among his ranting and her heart ached for it be who she thought it might be. Clearly one of the people had to be her dad but the other - Hannibal, father. It almost had to be. For who else was strong enough to kill a dragon? “You say this as if the sword does not call to me like a beacon lighting my way.”

“Does it tell you their exact location?”

She prayed that it did not. She needed to give him a reason to bring her along. A reason for her to follow wherever the beacon called. “Only a trail to follow.” He said.

“Take me with you.” She implored staring him dead in the eyes.

“Tell me where they are going, and you may come with me.” He caved eventually.

“Deal.” She smiled up at him, “But only after we are in the car.”

Dragons chasing treasure could be so easily persuaded.

**-Will -  
**

The house was seated on the edge of a bluff that sloped off into the sea. A fitting place for a demon so enamored with storms. Will had stared down the jagged cliff face and into the water and wondered about life. About the cycle of living, and all its idiosyncrasies. They would either die here or ascend like gods. He found himself not minding either one too much, as long as they saved Abigail. She was a smart girl and would be able to survive by herself. Death had tried to take her two times and two times it had failed. Behind him Hannibal entered the room they were in, “An old vintage. Something I had been storing away for some time now. A brew flavored with the blood of tortured humanity.”

“You would serve me blood wine tonight?” Will asked coming to stand in the middle of the room.

“Dear heart, I would serve you blood wine tonight and every night after.” He took out two glasses and popped off the cork of the bottle.

“This isn’t a courtship.” Will insisted.

“The courtship has long ended. This is an awakening.” Hannibal agreed.

Hannibal’s words cut into the heart of the matter and as he stepped close and handed Will his glass Will couldn’t help but take it. Persephone had had her pomegranate seeds, and Will would have this wine. He would drink it and be damned to the underworld from which Hannibal had crawled, “To awakenings then.” He raised his glass and took a sip.

Not so long ago, he had visited Hannibal and as the two of them had stared at each other - separated and reflected upon each other by glass. In this place of duality and togetherness, Hannibal had asked a question of him, _“Is this what you want? To be their lapdog?”_ Hannibal had inquired unblinking, _“You could be a king. But if you cannot command, you must obey.”_ Will often thought upon what Hannibal had said that day. He was very tired of living by the rules that society imposed upon him. Wolves were meant to be free. Blood wine filled his veins like fire. Burning away all doubt, “Oh my love.” Hannibal said softly consuming the last of his wine and putting the glass down, “May our days be many.”

When he finished speaking there was a sound and then the world around them exploded in fire. Will hardly had time to react - the glass in his hand shattering, but Hannibal must have planned for this. A glyph of blood surrounded them and the fire licked against the sides of the protective ward. Smoke filled his lungs and Will coughed, blinking to try to see through the smoke. As it cleared he beheld a figure standing in its center, untouched by the flame. The man’s eyes practically simmered under the heat, “You have something of mine.” He glowered.

“Where is Abigail?” Will asked his voice dripping in venom.

“Your treasure?” The dragon cocked his head, “Hidden, like that which should be mine.”

“What will you do to get yours back then?” Hannibal asked, “I must admit I am proud of you for chasing us all the way out here. It is a very long road.” The rest of his speech held a sarcastic tone.

“Enough.” The Dragon said.

A beat passed and then large leathery wings seemed to sprout from The Dragon’s back. They were gigantic things, each wingspan the size of a large man. They flapped and as they swung they put out the fire around them. The strength of the wings propelled The Dragon forward and a talon curled into Will’s shoulder and threw him from the circle and outside onto the patio. He grunted as his body hit the hard stone and the beast in him demanded retribution.

He howled.

There was the sound of snapping bones as he shifted. Up in the sky the moon hung full and heavy - he would be at the apex of his power and the rush that hit him when he finished the transformation was a thing of grace. He lept at The Dragon, legs filled with a vitality he had long denied himself. His teeth bit down into The Dragon’s shoulder and hot blood filled his mouth. As it danced down into his stomach The Dragon’s fervor became his strength. The Dragon reached his arm backward to grasp Will’s neck and talons sunk into him there. A strong grip pulled his teeth off their mark and tossed him back onto the stone.

The Dragon hardly had time to register this action as hooves clattered against the ground, like a thunderstorm. A man with blackened tar colored skin, immense branching antlers, and two black feathered legs like those of a stag - changed forward. One of the antlers caught The Dragon in shoulder, and pinned him to the ground. There was a roar and The Dragon’s looked up at assailant, fury in his visage - and fire poured from his mouth. It engulfed the two beings and when the fire cleared Hannibal stood some distance away, feathers and body showing clear signs of char and embers. The Dragon limped as he attempted to stand up as Hannibal and Will circled him, the predators inside of them hungry for more.

In that moment Hannibal's eyes connected with Will's and something unlocked deep within him. A door to their many memory places, forced open. They were no longer two separate creatures. The wolf merged with the demon who merged with the wolf who merged with the demon. Round and round, and round until they blurred and only one monster remained. As Will stood Hannibal stomped his hooves. The two of them shared a grin, The Dragon between them - and Will howled again. Together their sound turned into the perfect cacophony of noise. It was the sort of music that shook buildings and rattled the halls of hell. And it was beautiful.

They attacked at the same time.

After that all Will knew was blood frenzy. Everything around him was red and he sunk down into it, like the beast that he was. It coated his fur and stained his teeth and it was good. It made him dizzy, it made him never want to stop. If he could live this and only this his life would be bliss. To have denied himself this for so long - it seemed like such a silly notion. For wasn’t this how wolves were supposed to live? To hunt with the pack was a glorious thing.

Then as if waking from a dream - he was a man again, and Hannibal was holding him. They stood in the middle of a sea of red. The Dragon’s body was in pieces around them, utterly decimated. He rested his head on Hannibal’s shoulder and thought - if we died here - wouldn’t it be lovely? Hannibal’s hand cupped his chin and they began kissing. A forgone conclusion. A demon pact made in blood. A matting promise sealed, after a hunt. All of him was in pain and he knew that Hannibal supped on it. Drank it down and used it to heal himself. Passed on the healing blood magic to Will to knit wounds and seal off the aching parts of himself. God to lose himself in this kiss Will thought, to let Hannibal take and take until their flesh was the same.

A giggle pierced through their solitude, “Ah love. How cute.” They turned as one to look at Abigail’s spectral form floating above the mess, “Apparently he tied the seal to himself. Not that you know what I’m talking about. Did you know how cramped a car trunk is? Anyway. We should get out of here, I can’t see how we’re going to explain this away.” She gestured around them.

As she finished talking Hannibal smiled in a kind sort way that Will had never seen before. Will couldn't help but get caught up in the cheer, “As a family then?”

“Hell yeah.” Abigail said and then giggled again when Hannibal gave her a tut.

Together the three of them left the wreckage they had wrought behind. Let Jack deal with the fallout Will thought. He was done.

**\- The Dragon -  
**

He floated. All around him red. Blood licked up his body in waves and he stared upwards and questioned at that which was death. Here there was nothing. He thought about turning but did not. He would be sucked under the tide and he feared that which would greet him on the other side. Silence.

The blood rippled. Slowly each ripple turned liquid gold. There was light here now, among the red hues. Someone was standing over him, staring down at his naked form, “You couldn’t help yourself could you.” It spoke softly but full of love.

“Reba.” He reached forward and a hand took hold of his, “I am but a dragon. Driven by nature.”

“I know.” She said with no hint of fear, “I’m going on a grand adventure and I need a knight. Do you want to come?”

He laughed, “Does your god approve?”

“Only just.” Her smile was warm like the sun, “God is benevolent to those whom they love. But to others they are a being of furry and judgement.”

“God is a dragon.” He sighed content, “I will come with you.”

The moment he finished speaking, everything around them burned. Holy and beautiful, and great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My longest chapter yet! Thank you again to all readers, you guys really are the best :)
> 
> A few notes: Because it's not mentioned the words Freddie used to release the spell on the sword were: Monster Husbands. Also it was always my intent to have this chapter be the one to have the first Hannibal POV. I hope it fit and I hope that the discovery of what (or who) Hannibal was, was at least ok. [ More about Furfur here.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Furfur)
> 
> Next up - the epilogue.


	7. The Crow (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the storm is over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is heavily inspired by [this](http://amatesura.tumblr.com/post/166500773651) gif set by tumblr user [amatesura](http://amatesura.tumblr.com/). Thank you so much for letting me use your gif set for inspiration. 
> 
> I've changed the rating for this fic, specifically because of this chapter lol.

**\- Margot -  
**

Each step of her heels on the stone walkway make a loud clacking sound. The night here was warm, and it felt good on her cool skin. Most people thought that vampires couldn’t feel heat, when the truth was that their biology did in fact resemble that of a human - only muted. And they cooled quickly. Hot nights lead to a flush upon her cheeks. Late summer was Margot’s favorite, it was warm enough in the night that she could really feel the heat. She rounded the street corner and found herself face to face with the large gated apartment that she owned with Alana.

Unlatching the gate she stepped down the walkway. At the end she punched in the code to unlock the door. A buzzing sound told her she had entered the password correctly and she opened the door. A small entryway with a flight of steps greeted her and she walked up them leisurely. Upstairs she could smell something cooking and she licked her lips. Alana knew her too well. Finally reaching the second floor she stepped into their large living room and glanced over into the kitchen where Alana stood in front of a hot stove hair up in a loose bun, “Honey I’m home.” Margot jokingly said - because she was sure Alana had heard the buzzer.

“And not a moment too soon.” Alana smiled up at her, “I’ve made mince pie tonight. Morgan has been begging for it so I thought I may as well acquiesce to your son’s request.”

“He’s your son too.”

Another thing that people often didn’t know about vampires was that they could eat human food and often enjoyed it. It didn’t fill them up, not in the way that a good glass of blood did but it was pleasurable, “He is indeed.” Alana smiled, “How was your time outside?”

Margot smiled wickedly, “Spanish people have beautiful sounding hearts.”

“Surely not more beautiful than mine.” Alana joked.

“No heart is as beautiful as yours.”

Margot was utterly besotted with Alana and her wife knew that. It still didn’t stop Alana from playing around with her about it. If only because she enjoyed hearing Margot profess her love, “We received a gift while you were out, by the way.” Alana pointed to a pot on the table.

Margot walked over to the pot and stared at the purple flowers, “Pansies?”

“The note in the book is the true gift.” Alana turned away to pull the pie out of the oven as the stove dinged.

Picking up the book next to the pot Margot turned it over in her hands. The words “Midsummer's Nights Dream” sparkled back at her in golden font. This was a very old copy. Maybe the oldest copy of the book that Margot had ever seen. She turned it over in her hands and then opened it. The spine cracked as she did. So not only was it old - it was hardly touched. Truly a collectors item then, “To my dear lovebirds.” She looked up at Alana who was staring at her expectantly and then continued, “After talking with my consort and beloved daughter I have decided upon a great many thing. May the end message of this book serve as my reluctance. I am but Titania bewitched by love. Hannibal.” Margot cocked and eyebrow and then looked back up at Alana, “He’s really backing off then.”

“We are his changeling boy. Given up for love.” Alana chuckled.

“Prague next then?” Margot suggested.

“I thought you would never ask.” Alana paused and then yelled, “Dinner is ready.”

There was the sound of feet as Morgan appeared in the door. As he went over to help Alana move the food over to the table Margot could only think of how truly blessed she was.

**\- Will -  
**

Will groaned as he woke. Next to him Hannibal’s hands slid down Will’s sides as he began peppering kisses down Will’s neck, “Good morning my dear.” Hannibal said.

Outside a crow cawed and Will turned around to face Hannibal, kissing the demon in front of him. They stayed like that for a little bit, content in sharing kisses - but Will could feel Hannibal’s need against his leg and smirked into the man’s mouth, “So early in the day?” He teased.

“You mock me but I can feel your hunger too.”

Hannibal’s hands continued their journey downward, to settle on Will’s thighs where he begun to position Will’s legs as he liked - opening Will up and leaving him vulnerable, “Can you?” Will grabbed Hannibal’s hand and moved it so it brushed up against his length, “Because your hand wasn’t in the right place for really feeling it.”

Having said that Will bucked upward and groaned at the contact, “What a sly thing you are.” Hannibal told him, “Using me to pleasure yourself.”

Will didn’t let Hannibal’s words deter him and he moaned as he continued to push himself into Hannibal’s hand, each press sending small jolts of desire through his body, “Why should I deny my own pleasure when you’re being so very withholding.”

“Am I?” Hannibal feigned ignorance.

“I think so.” Will answered and picked up the pace, rolling his hips with more speed and urgency.

At Will’s prodding Hannibal’s fingers dug into Will’s sides forcing his thrusting to come to a stop, “You say that as if you hate it.” At the end of his sentence he bit into Will’s shoulder, and Will couldn’t help but arch into it. 

“Then stop playing around.” Will growled.

“Only for you.” Hannibal answered, nudging Will so the man once again faced away from him.

There was a beat and then Will almost howled as Hannibal pushed inside of him. His mind registered how utterly slick Hannibal already was. How easily Hannibal had slide inside. His love must have been preparing for this while Will was still asleep. So deep was the need. Will could picture Hannibal stroking himself, eyes dark while he watched Will sleep. Getting just too terribly impatient for him to wake. And now this - the stretch and burn as Hannibal settled deep inside. Nirvana.

There was something about Will’s wolf that loved it when Hannibal was rough with him. Loved when Hannibal bit into him with just a little too much strength. When he fucked into him until he was broken and raw, pleading with the man to go just a little faster - just a little harder. For now though Hannibal seemed content to take it slow. His original urgency forgotten, strokes leisurely and without hurry. Will wanted to complain but when Hannibal hit that spot inside of him, the complaints died on his tongue, “It was never going to be anyone other than you.” He said between breathy sighs.

“Anyone other than me what?” Hannibal asked and punctuated his question with a thrust into Will that was just a little on the painful side - the bastard.

“That my wolf wanted. That my wolf loved.”

“Of course not.” Hannibal told him, hand coming to wrap around Will’s neck - pulling him upward so that their mouths could meet to exchange sloppy kisses, “It was always going to be you and I against the world.” He whispered into Will’s mouth.

Will moaned, “Yeah.” He broke away for a moment panting, “Fuck. Please.”

“More?” Hannibal asked, and pushed in with just a little bit more strength.

“Of course more you asshole.” Will tried to shift backwards to make Hannibal take him with roughness Will desired.

“If you so insist.” Hannibal’s mouth curved into a deadly smile.

The impact put behind his next onslaught was enough to wrest a loud keening sound from Will’s throat. It sounded like desperation and need, but Will was too far gone to care. Take me the noise said. Take me, again and again - until the only thing I remember is this blinding pleasure. From that moment on Hannibal was relentless and Will found himself overcome with it. Every part of his body came alive under Hannibal’s hands, his mouth - his cock. And Will honestly wouldn’t have had it any other way.

**\- Chiyoh -  
**

The door opened softly and the girl came to stand beside her outside. Sun rays filtered through the trees casting the her in a warm glow, the light almost making her brown hair look gold. Chiyoh marveled at the work that necromancers could do. To bring back the dead was one thing, but to reconstruct a body from pictures and memory was another. Especially a body that had not been born with a soul. She cocked her head and the girl looked down at her, “It’s too loud in there.” She said and Chiyoh cawed, “I can’t understand you.” She rolled her eyes.

Chiyoh blinked and then remembered that this was not Hannibal, nor was it Mischa. A ghost could not understand the language of birds. In her long age, people had a bad habit of blurring together. She hopped off the railing she was on and used all three legs to steady her landing. She cawed once more and then black smoke began to rise from where she was standing, “I understand your reservations. Demons and wolves can be very passionate.” She said, now flesh and blood.

“A little too passionate I think. Did you hear what Hannibal did with Bedelia’s body? Turned it into what amounted to a murder love poem.” She made a face.

“If it were not for that body I would not be here.”

The whole scene had been very messy and while Chiyoh understood its intent, she also did not understand why people had to be so performative. It was better to hide in the shadows, where the shade provided comfort and safety, “You really saved our skins.” Abigail grabbed the railing and used it to stabilize herself as she leaned backwards.

“It was my family's duty to protect Mischa’s for many years.”

“Wouldn’t that have ended after she died?”

For some perhaps - but Mischa had loved Hannibal, and despite Hannibal’s terrible crimes following his sister’s death Chiyoh could never forget that fact. Could never forget how Mischa had laughed or how she had looked curled up in one of Hannibal’s big chairs - book in hand. Mischa had followed him everywhere and Hannibal had allowed it with such an ease that it had warmed Chiyoh’s cold heart, “He is an extension of her.” She answered.

“I wish I could have met her.” Abigail said with such a longing that Chiyoh wanted to reach out and brush it away.

Leaning forward Abigail let go of the railing. Now steady on her feet Abigail stared at the forest around them wistfully, “I wish you could have met her too.” She replied.

Chiyoh wished that many people could have met Mischa. But she understood the shifting tides of time, and the impossibilities of wishes. Mischa had not been given the second chance that Abigail had, and perhaps that was how life had willed it. There was no doubt in her mind that the two girls would have gotten along. But it was okay for that to just be an unachievable dream. For now Chiyoh was satisfied picking up where she had left off. Her home was a place of moored things. Where despite the ground beneath them moving and the years that would pass, Chiyoh would remain. Ever watchful and ever present.

The sounds from inside had quieted, “Do you think they are done?”Abigail asked.

“Abby! Come inside, Hannibal is making breakfast.” Will’s voice called out to them.

“I suppose they have.” Chiyoh told her.

“Come inside?”

“I am content out here.” Chiyoh answered.

“Suit yourself.”

Abigail shrugged and turned to go back into the house, the wooden door slamming behind her as it snapped closed on its hinges. When she was gone the world returned to how it was before, save the sound of occasional laughter from inside as Hannibal and Will joined their daughter. Chiyoh sighed and as she exhaled, shifted back into a crow. A flap of wings carried her to the railing she had been on before Abigail had come outside. Blinking, Chiyoh’s black eyes stared into the endless green and she felt the stillness in her feathers.

Everything was as it should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes: The first is on what Chiyoh is - Chiyoh is a [ Three Legged Crow](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Three-legged_crow), specifically the Japanese interpretation. I'm telling you this one out right, just because it's a lesser known myth. It was also always my plan to end this story with her POV and I'm happy with how it turned out. 
> 
> Another thing I tried to do - which I'm not sure how successful it was, was to imply that Abigail was never human - indeed that she was originally created by Garret Jacob Hobbs or her "father" as a sort of frankenstein's creature. The hints are there but they are sparse. 
> 
> With that out of the way - Thank you so so so much to everyone for reading, and to those who stuck with me during the whole ride :)


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